Hello, internet.

It is a rare day that has descended upon the world today for I am actually just blogging about my feelings instead of the other alternative that is write a really cryptic not so cryptic poem to describe how I’m feeling because I’m to scared to actually use harsh, straight to the point words. Yay.

My english teacher would hate me right now, I mean dear god that is one long run off sentence.

Sorry.

NOT SORRY.

( please tell me you got the refrence or don’t, maybe just smile a little I guess, I don’t know, I don’t know where I’m going with this.)

My brain is weird, I apologize.

I am a liar.

I lie, a whole lot.

I lie so often that I am officially confused by my own lies.

Let’s take today for example, I didn’t go to university….

Why you ask? (or maybe you don’t cause you don’t really care but I’m gonna tell you anyways)

because i felt exhausted. mentally. physically. emotionally.

idk whatever -ally you can think of that would make sense in this context, ya that. just that.

But to my friends in university, I said I had an appointment with a psychologist.

And to my parents, I said I had no classes today.

OH DEAR ANONYMOUS PERSON WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT?
( who am I kidding, if you’re reading this and are actually gonna reach out to me after, you’re probably someone who knows me)

Well because I felt like I couldn’t say that my Mental Illness is taking it’s toll on me and I need a day to rejuvinate, away from people because even though I may like you and you may be really awesome sauce people, my depression needs you to sashay away from me right now.

I don’t want to be around you because my brain is conspiring against you, anything you say is being warped into something horribly disguting to justify in myself that you know what just stay away from them.

“You’re better off alone.”
A horrible mantra that is repeated in my head more often than I would like to admit to.

And it’s a lie.

No human is better off alone.

I could get into the whole science of it but well that’s not the point of this.

I feel suffocated.

And it sucks that some where in my mind, me needing a day off cause of my mental Illness feels like an excuse I’m making to do things I just don’t want to do.

I wish I could be more honest with people, but it’s just such a hard concept for people to understand, even to those who know about this academicly.

And they say they understand, a statement that infruiates me greatly, because no, if you did understand, then there’s alot of things you would be wary about, things you wouldn’t do, things you wouldn’t say and most of all then it would play in your head 24/7 that this person is Mentally Ill and even though she wants to be treated like a normal person some thing are just horrible triggering and anxiety provoking and not funny at all.

And that’s impossible to do.

Or it atleast takes a great amount of effort to do.

A great amount of effort that people can’t afford to use on a day to day, regular basis.

Which is probably why I don’t want to tell them, because knowing they know about your illness and still it sometimes slips from their brain and they say something, that to them is insignicficant, but to you opens a wound that sends you back into an abyss.

Yaaaa, that sucks.

And I’d rather not be angry at people for being human and not wanting to waste all that enegry on me, because I know how demanding it can be to care for or love a mentally ill person.

So I just don’t tell em, cause then when they say things that hurt me, it’s cause they didn’t know better, and cause I refuse to talk about it and I don’t have to blame anyone but myself.

fun.

ik alot of people who would tell me that they would be willing to put that energy and effort into helping me because they care and love for me, and that if they ever say something or do something I wrong, I should just tell them.

But how many times can I?

I’ve seen how it gets when you constantly tell them that what they said wasnt funny, or they said something horribly triggering, and just always picking out things that affect me in the worst ways and slowly that sympathy or empathy they had, it just goes and then I am a horrible demanding bitch who just uses her mental illness ( if thats even real?) to get her way.

I don’t know where I was going this.

To anyone who was reading, I’m sorry, there really was no point to this at all.

–